Please don't question multi-week players

Chapter 270. The Path of Regret (1)

Jiang Jianxin followed Gu Jiyun through the quiet path to his villa.

The buildings in this upscale residential area are of different styles. Gu Jiyun's villa is not large, but the most eye-catching thing is the woodland surrounding the house.

Towering ancient trees and low shrubs are scattered in a well-organized manner, and wildflowers bloom freely among the grass, giving the entire woodland an untouched sense of desolation.

How come there's such a large area of ​​native forest around your house?

Jiang Jianxin slowed his pace, his gaze lingering among the dense shadows of the trees, his tone filled with undisguised curiosity.

There are also wealthy people in the community who have flower gardens and wooded areas, but they are all carefully maintained.

The woodland in front of us looked like it had been neglected for a long time and had become a wild forest.

"Everyone has different preferences."

He raised his hand and gently stroked the rough bark of an old locust tree beside him.

"I like this sense of desolation; it gives me a feeling of freedom."

Gu Jiyun said in a serious tone.

"And have you ever heard the sound of rain falling in a broad-leaved forest?"

Jiang Jianxin remembered the white noise section that was very popular in the sleep aid section of the Ping An Forum. She would occasionally go there before bed to find sleep aid videos to relax.

"I've heard it, the ticking sound is very pleasant."

Gu Jiyun smiled and said slowly:

"I also love that sound. I've nurtured this whole forest, and I can listen to it anytime it rains."

His smile was faint, as pure as melting snow in early spring, clear and bright.

When his brows relaxed, the corners of his eyes curved slightly, and his light brown eyes were warmed by the setting sun, as if they held a pool of amber light. The silver-rimmed glasses shimmered with tiny golden rays, and the gaze behind the lenses was soft and bright, carrying a touch of scholarly gentleness.

The white suit was bathed in a warm orange-red light, making him seem as if he were immersed in a gentle twilight.

The wind brushed past his hair, carrying the warmth of dusk, making even the air feel lighter.

Jiang Jianxin felt that what he said made sense, but she also felt a little strange.

This feeling had no identifiable source, yet it surged up nonetheless.

[The answer is the truth. Are you there? Do you think this person is strange?]

Jiang Jianxin asked his intuition.

My usually active intuition remained silent.

I don't know if they really disconnected or just didn't want to say anything.

Although there was a faint sense of strangeness, Jiang Jianxin did not sense any malice from the young man.

She followed Gu Jiyun deeper into the woods and finally saw the two-story villa inside.

In front of the villa were rattan lounge chairs and a rattan table, on which sat steaming hot tea and a book with a brown leather cover.

As Jiang Jianxin walked past the rattan table, he glanced at it and noticed that the other pens in the book were of an old style; at least nowadays, very few people use pens like that.

"Please come in, Your Excellency Sword Master."

Gu Jiyun opened the villa door for her and gestured for her to come in and sit down.

As Jiang Jianxin entered the room, a floor-to-ceiling window immediately greeted him, offering a panoramic view of the twilight.

The last rays of the setting sun slanted through the glass, casting a golden streak across the dark wooden floor.

She looked up and saw a wide skylight embedded in the high ceiling, which was reflecting the flowing cloud shadows, like a natural, dynamic painting.

The living room is simply yet warmly furnished, with oak-colored solid wood furniture gleaming with a gentle luster in the light and shadow.

A childish cartoon was playing on the projection screen, and soft light and shadow danced in the dim room.

She walked slowly to the center, where the brown leather sofa made a soft rubbing sound when she touched it, and the cushions sank in just the right amount, gently enveloping her.

The entire space was so quiet that you could hear the faint hum of the projector running.

A faint scent of sandalwood wafts through the air, mixed with a subtle hint of cedar, like the natural aroma of wood baked by the sun.

The occasional chirping of birds outside the window further accentuated the tranquility of the room, making it feel like a secluded paradise.

Looking at the neat interior and the desolate exterior, Jiang Jianxin felt that strange feeling return.

The underlying abnormality was enveloped in warmth, making it undetectable and not offensive. A crisp clinking sound of porcelain came from the kitchen as Gu Jiyun selected teaware in front of the tea cabinet.

Under the warm yellow sunlight, the white porcelain teacup gleamed with a gentle luster in his hands.

"What kind of tea does Your Excellency the Sword Master prefer?"

His voice came through the wooden shelf next to the living room.

"Uh... I'm fine with anything."

Jiang Jianxin said awkwardly.

The steam from the kettle and the subtle sound of tea leaves unfurling were exceptionally clear in the quiet space.

Before long, Gu Jiyun walked over carrying two gilded trays, his steps light and slow.

"despair--"

A cup of steaming Earl Grey tea was gently placed on the coffee table in front of Jiang Jianxin.

In the deep amber-colored tea soup, the sunset rays falling through the skylight shattered into shimmering golden light, spreading a warm halo around the rim of the cup.

Gu Jiyun's slender fingers slowly rotated the three-tiered dessert rack, where macarons, scones, and mousse cakes were arranged in a staggered and orderly fashion on each tier.

He sat down on the single sofa diagonally opposite, his eyes behind his silver-rimmed glasses curving slightly as he took a sip of the black tea in his cup.

"These are all desserts made this morning."

As he set down the teacup, the bottom of the cup made a crisp clinking sound against the saucer.

"Sword Master, you can try it and see if it suits your taste."

Jiang Jianxin had no appetite for desserts for the time being, and didn't touch them either.

She took a sip of the steaming hot black tea and felt a strange sense of warmth in the scene.

Thank you for your warm hospitality.

Jiang Jianxin thanked him first.

"Your name is Storyteller, and your abilities seem to be writing novels?"

Gu Jiyun took a sip of tea, smiled, and said:
"It's not about novels. My talent is called 'screenplay.' I can create stories, fabricate characters, and bring the characters in the stories to life so they can talk to people normally."

"I'm currently a screenwriter, and I occasionally write essays and poems... Perhaps even Sword Master has read my poems."

Jiang Jianxin took a sip of black tea:
"Um...really?"

Gu Jiyun added:

“I have a long-term exclusive contract with the journalist, and his literature channel will reprint my poems.”

Jiang Jianxin understood somewhat. As a figure at the pinnacle of popularity, she was a well-rounded journalist who had also run a literature channel, where most of the articles were her original works, with occasional articles in other styles.

Journalists themselves have lofty aspirations, and their literary works are also expansive and magnificent.

She had reposted poems that were clearly not her own melancholic, sentimental poems; they read like they were drunk on fake wine, shallow and wistful—Jiang Jianxin finally knew who wrote those poems today.

Following the emoticon guy and the chief stewardess, Jiang Jianxin has gained another subordinate, the melancholy guy.

She touched her chin and asked:

"Well, I have indeed read your poems... But speaking of which, why do you always write sad poems? I've read many of them, and every single one is very melancholic, with a touch of sadness in them."

The young man sighed deeply and said:
"It's just a matter of personality."

Jiang Jianxin remained silent.

She suddenly understood why she had been having such strange feelings all along.

Often, details reveal a person's personality.

The man in front of me said he liked the untidy, desolate feeling, but his home was so neat and rigid that it lacked any sense of freedom and unrestraint.

He said he longed for freedom, and logically his writing should also reveal that romantic yearning. Like Feng Shiman, even if he just stands quietly in front of you, you can see the stubborn and twisted persistence in his eyes, wishing you could become a dandelion and sail away with the wind.

But the poem of this person before me is morbid, rotten, and desolate, like a song ending and the audience departing.

In other words, his personality was so contradictory that it seemed inhuman, like a trapped ghost.

One more update! I don't have much to do in real life today, so I'll write a bit more.